Nostalgia

Here's where I stand: I haven't gotten any activity into my day yet unless you count a walk to the store for some coffee because we don't have any in the house. But, the store is 1/4 of a mile away, maaaaaaybe 1/3 of a mile. It did serve to get the blood moving, but it didn't exactly make me feel like I could climb a mountain.

The exact moment we realized we were missing a place setting

lobster, meat, corn

For local food yesterday and last night, my sister and family drove over to pick me up for a quick beer at Anna's Water's Edge, which looks directly at Malaga Island, and then to Damariscotta for a giant lobster feed with sisters, brothers-in-law, nephew, nieces, stepmother, stepmother's friends, uncle, and aunt who we don't refer to as "aunt" for some unknown reason. In all, 12 people, 8 lobsters, a dozen ears of corn, and a flank steak. I have no idea where the steak came from, but the lobster was purchased at Muscongas Bay Lobster and the corn came courtesy of Clark's Farm, or so I have been told.

Clark was a big name when we were summering on Biscay Pond. The Clark family owned Clark's Spa--now King Eider's Pub--in downtown Damariscotta. As kids, we would make a trek to town and while our mom shopped at Reny's, my brother Pete and I would walk over to Clark's Spa to look for the newest issue of Mad Magazine. The shop had a screen door that slammed when you walked in and creaky thin-slatted wooden floors and the entire place smelled like a chocolate newspaper. I'm hopeful it's the same family that owns Clark's Farm, but I don't know.

Aside: R.H. Reny lived really close to our camp--back when our hoity-toity lake house was still a camp--and my teenaged sisters would cut through his apple orchard to go see some fellas at Pemaquid Campground. Rumor had it, Mr. Reny would shoot rock salt at anyone who trespassed, but the little file man in my head cannot seem to retrieve one single memory of that actually happening. The story smacks of the "sick balls" fable from Stand By Me.

Since I'm on this nostalgia kick, I'll mention I ended up monopolizing the dinner conversation last night by asking questions about our family tree. My dad's brother was there and he had plenty of information about my dad's side of the family. I'd had a couple margaritas (not local) and my wine glass was never empty though I'm certain I was drinking from it, so my memory is slightly hazy. In short, my great grandparents met while my great grandmother Bridget was working as a housekeeper and my great grandfather was a butler in the Boston area. Bridget was from Ireland and at some point in her life returned to the homeland only to grab passage back to the Americas a few years later.

I think.

The other thing I gleaned is that almost everyone in my ancestry is named either Ralph or Mary. And, I (Sarah Ann) am named after two girls (Sarah and Ann) who died in infancy. So, I have that going for me. Which is nice.

Brother Paul is headed this way, so even though I aspire to get in some form of activity, I may not. If only our kayaks had drink holders.